Such Torturous Things
by Noise And Hammers
Summary: He laughed so hard that it began to hurt. Blood poured from his mouth and in spurts through his teeth. And still, his eyes glazed, he laughed. Insanity, at long last.-Faust VIII, rated for disturbing situations/ideas, slight horror, and heavy violence.
1. Prayer

_**SUCH TORTUROUS THINGS**_

I CRY TO THE HEAVENS, BUT CANNOT BE SAVED

SALVATION IS BEHIND ME

FOR I

AM ALONE

AND THE PAIN CONSUMED THE FIBERS OF MY BEING

AND YET

I LIVE

FOR ONE PURPOSE, A REASON

I STAND

I BREATHE

AND WITH EACH PASSING DAY…

**I SCREAM AND DIE**

**I SCREAM AND DIE**

I

**SCREAM!**

AND

I

**SCREAM!**

AND THEN...

...I...

**DIE.**

AS IT WAS MEANT TO BE...NOW AND FOREVER...

AMEN.


	2. In the Beginning

**NOTE**: Kay guys, so this is basically about Faust's journey FROM sanity and fall from Grace. Put into action by the story I read on here entitled "One Broken Wing", which I really liked, gave me enough incentive to finally put the idea that has been sitting around in my head for quite a time onto pages. Plus I am on another Faust craze, and this is gonna be good. Enjoy!

-Momo

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own Shaman King, including all the characters and stuff, that's all Hiroyuki Takei. Blah blah blah….this is just a fanfiction….insert other copyright stuff here.

* * *

IN THE BEGINNING...

Faust lay in bed, face buried in a pillow. He had cried for a full three hours straight without stopping. He lay there, breathing heavily and brokenly, heaving as he clutched tightly to the sheets. The room was cold, and he no longer had a warm body next to him. The house was lonely, empty. He trembled in the dark, but he dare not reach for the light. His irrational phobia of darkness, he thought, had been cured after meeting Eliza, realizing that nothing could make him unhappy so long as her love remained with him, as it always had. Her love was everything. It was his purpose to live. To be with her…

For another few hours, he lay there, unmoving, trembling, and feeling utterly alone.

"I couldn't…" he kept whispering in a broken voice. "I couldn't save her…"

The phone rang, and Faust's heart jumped. Shakily, he got up and stumbled in the darkness until he found the light switch and the phone.

"_Faust_," he answered in German custom. "_Ruft mich an?_"

"Johann? Johann, this is your mother-in-law," came the voice on the other line. Faust's hands began to shake. His voice came brokenly and his German accent was thickly coating his words.

"Y-Yes…w-why do you call at such hour?" he said, nervousness making his English fail him.

"Johann…it's only nine o' clock. Are you alright?"

"…Yes…._Ich bin ok_…" he said, finding it difficult to find English words. Breathing heavily, he tried to steady himself. Could she hear his heart beating so fast? What would she say if he told her that his poor, lovely Eliza had been…

He burst into tears and frantic sobbing, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped the telephone.

"Johann? Johann! Tell me what's going on!"

"Eliza!" he sobbed. "Oh, Eliza! Eliza!" The final syllable of her name became an elongated bawling moan as Faust dropped to his knees, phone still in hand. He feared he would break it with the tightness of his grip. He heard his mother-in-law saying some frantic words. What happened to Eliza? Are you two alright? I'll be right over.

He heard her hang up and he threw the phone across the room and screamed. He then threw himself onto the hard wood floor and sobbed so badly that he couldn't breathe. He lay there, heaving and sobbing, and then he unsteadily tried to stand, and he hit his head on something hard and sharp…the cabinet corner? Holding his hand to his right temple, he felt blood. His vision blurred. He was standing in his living room…how did he make it here? Was he falling? A knock on the door. Frantic.

"Johann! Eliza! Someone open up!"

Door opened. Did he do that? Blood…dark blood…

Someone taking his hands. Someone calming him. Tears pouring down his face, blood down the side of his cheek. He was sitting on the couch…the bloodstain on the carpet where his Eliza had fallen. Eliza…Eliza…

Everything went black. A scream. Or was that his own? Eliza? Can he see her? Where? Someone calling his name…her name? Unconscious…

* * *

He didn't know when he awoke. He, at first, didn't know where he was. His bedroom. He sat up, his head throbbing and he felt dizzy. What was happening? Did all of that happen? He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood, steadying himself. He made his way into the kitchen. His in-laws were still here. They were seated at the table. What time was it? He stumbled into a chair. His father-in-law stared at him, red-rimmed eyes. His mother-in-law was almost done crying.

"What happened, Johann?" she said through tears. "Tell us what happened!"

"Easy, Laura," his father-in-law said. "Tell us, Johann. Did you harm her?" Defense in his eyes. Faust already felt the tears in his eyes begin to rise.

"No…No I would never even think! How could I! No…no no no!" he stammered. His father-in-law took his hands.

"Calm down," he said quietly.

"I-I came home…from the clinic a-and she was…Oh God…she was on…o-on the floor with a…a bullet! A bullet in her head! I tried! Lord help me, I tried to save her! I had to! But...couldn't! I…_was habe ich getan_? _Was habe ich getan_?!" He lost all words and began to ramble in German, frantically searching for translation. He couldn't see. He saw in front of him then the vision of his Eliza, brains pouring from her head, bullets…murder! Murder!

"Murder!" he screamed. Was he holding a knife? Blood…blood everywhere. He was panting. He steadied himself and looked around. Two dead bodies…his mother and father in-law? He dropped the floor, shaking.

"Killed them…I killed them…" he said in a whisper. "Why…why! Why did I do this!" He looked at his hands. Blood. Blood everywhere. Eliza. Eliza's blood.

He screamed so loud that it hurt his throat. He lay on his back in a puddle of blood, staring at the ceiling. He cried and cried, and when there were no more tears, he slept, and he did not dream.

* * *

TRANSLATIONS:

_Ruft mich an?Calling?_

_Ich bin okI'm ok_

_Was habe ich getan?What have I done?_


	3. God Said

**NOTE:** Sorry guys this took so long to get up. What with school starting and marching band, I barely have any time for myself anymore! Anyway, here it is. Hope you like it. I took class time to do this, so appreciate my sacrifices for you all, my devoted fans!!

-Momo

**DISCLAIMER**: Shaman King is owned by Hiroyuki Takei, who is a God. This story is purely fan-made.

* * *

…GOD SAID…

He awoke. It was the sun peaking through the window in the kitchen that woke him. He felt dirty, wet, cold. Eyes fluttering in the light, he searched the ceiling for answers. Then, almost on cue, the events of the night before flashed violently through his mind like a train going off track. He caught his gasp in his throat and lay there, holding his breath, afraid to sit up and look at the mess he had made.

Finally, with whatever initiative, he willed his body to sit up, and with a push, he propped himself up against a chair at the table, and he stared absently at the semi-dried puddle of blood in which he sat…and slept in last night.

Shaking slightly, he almost unconsciously stood and, with a dazed fascination that horrified him, he picked up the bloody kitchen knife on the table lay. He blinked, feeling all around him the filth of death. His clothes clung to his back, wet with crimson thickness he knew all too well. He looked around him. Two familiar dead bodies lay on the tile. They were as white as the floor around them, both lying on their backs. Their eyes were rolled back into their heads, hair messed, deep gashes strewn over their bodies like flecks of straw. He bent down and knelt beside Laura, his mother-in-law. He felt numb as he stared at the dead body. He flipped the body over with a gentle push. This side was not pale, but an almost purple-red colour. The rest of the blood had settled to this side, as sugar would settle if not stirred into a glass of lemonade.

He stood once more and with such lack of feeling that he could not place, he began to clean up the mess he made. The bodies…he would bury them in the field about a mile down the road. It seemed proper, yet grotesque in the same. No one can know…no one.

When all was said and done, having buried the bodies and cleaned up for the most part, he got back into his pick-up and drove back to his house. He only now realized that he was very uncomfortable in his messy clothes, and any passer-by that might have seen him would have thought that he had…

…but he had, hadn't he?

He walked inside, locked the door behind him, and for a moment, he stared at the surroundings in the room. All seemed so alien now that he was alone. Alone. He felt an ache in his chest, his heart wrenching. Sighing too heavily for his lungs, he walked across into the kitchen once more and picked up the knife, which still lay on the table. He examined it for a moment, and with some hesitance, he went to the sink and tossed it in. He swallowed. It was the first time he had semi-intentionally killed anyone. _Anything_, at that. He was a doctor. He saved lives, not took them. He helped millions and millions with his unmatched skill of surgical mastery. Of course, he couldn't save everyone. No...he couldn't save everyone.

He made his way upstairs into his bathroom, where he intended to sit in the bath for the rest of the day. He stripped to the flesh, dropped the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, and as the water ran, filling the tub, he sat in the middle of the tiled room and hugged his knees. He knew now what it truly meant to be completely and utterly afraid. No. This was not fear. It was terror, despair. No one really knows the true meaning of those words. When your heart is bleeding on the inside, a hole slowly getting larger with every shaken breath you take. When your hands are cold and trembling so badly it begins to hurt. Despair was something that could be compared to no other feeling on the Earth. And then there was the terror. The unescapable panic rising slowly in the depths of his being. The cold, blackened chaos that was mounting in his soul. The fear. Was it fear? Could it be called fear? It was a feeling much greater than that.

"Horror..." he breathed. He looked over at the bathtub and recognized that it was near full. He shut off the water and climbed in, the warm water rising as he lay. He leaned on the side of the ivory tub and, neck deep in water, he closed his eyes.

* * *

"...'Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young...'"

"What a lovely poem..."

"It's Vebster."

"Webster? You say it's Webster?"

"Yes."

"How pretty..."

"Just like you, Eliza."

She blushed. He leant over and kissed her cheek tenderly, chuckling as she began to giggle.

"Johann, please Spooky," she started, grabbing her husband's hands and playfully pushing them away.

"Oh, you're calling me by the pet name, now, hm?" Faust replied, smiling and delivering another sweet kiss to Eliza's cheek. It was a warm afternoon and they had just moved into their new house. They were nearly unpacked, and they were curled up on the couch in the sun room, gazing out the large window in front of them. Eliza sighed. She leaned her head against Faust's chest.

"I love you," she sighed, gazing up at him.His eyes met hers.

"I love you too, Eliza," he said, wrapping his arms tight around her. He bent slightly and kissed her strawberry lips softly.

"I love you so much," he whispered against her kiss. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

"Mmm…Spooky…you make me blush," she replied in a breathy whisper to his jaw line. She kissed him lightly, making a trail leading all the way down to his chest to the seam of his open collared shirt. Faust leaned back and sighed happily, staring out into the grande vista that was displayed before him behind the glass. The sun was setting. Perfect, a perfect scene. Two lovers, alone together, enjoying the company of one another as the world was soon to be at rest around them. It couldn't get much better. Unless, of course...

"You know, my darling," Faust said, looking down at his wife. "The bath upstairs has built in jets...like a hot tub..." He smiled coyly. Eliza giggled and kissed his lips.

"Sounds like fun," she whispered, sliding her hands up his shirt. "Shall we?"

"_Du haben meine herz_," he replied. "Forever..."

* * *

He realized he had been sitting there in the water for a long time, thinking, remembering. He also realized that the water on his face was not from the bath. He wiped his eyes and sighed a shaky breath. Slowly, he climbed out of the tub and without even drying or draining it, he walked out of the room and into his bedroom, where he threw himself on the bed and cried into Eliza's pillow.

_"Oh, meine liebe! Meine liebeling Eliza!" _he wept. He buried his face deep into her pillow and screamed. He screamed and screamed and he didn't stop until he found it hard to breathe. He lifted his head, breathing hard and hiccuped breaths. The pillow was soaked with his wet hair and tears. He swallowed hard and glanced at the clock. It was already late afternoon. It was warm, hot outside. He sat up. The curtains were drawn, it was moderately dark in the room. Downstairs, Eliza's body lay cold and dead on a med table, covered nicely and preserved at a set temperature. It made him feel almost sick to know that he had not thought about granting her a proper burial yet. Perhaps he should bury her near her parents? He moaned. He couldn't let her go.

He put his hands to the sides of his head and rubbed his temples. His eyes wandered over to the bedside table where a bible lay. There was a book marker in it that he had never taken notice to before. He narrowed his eyes and stared at it. It was a crimson ribbon, fairly old looking, and he could see that there was a certain marking on it, but he couldn't make it out. It was too far inside the book. He reached for it and plucked the bookmark out. It was indeed VERY old. Red ribbon, and the marking...it was a pentagram with a large calligraphic "F" in the middle. There were thorny vines strewn about the the pentagram, flowing in and out of it. Faust swallowed. The old family seal of is ancestor's true side. The first Johann Faustus. He blinked slowly and flipped to the page where the bookmark had been. Revelation, the page with the woman and the dragon. Faust closed the Bible and placed it back on the table. He continued to stare at the mark for a long, long time.

"Faust the First," he said. "Why do you call to me now?"

Talk of his ancestor was _verboten_ for him in his household, and pretty much everywhere he went in Germany. He never really knew too much about him, but what he did know, he did not choose to discuss. Being a Faust in itself was something that was surefire to make everyone hate you. He'd faced ridicule from the day he was born. And he'd even tried to change his name, go by an alias and hope for the best. But nothing worked...and yet, he'd survived. But now...

"Definitely no place for this," he said to the Bible, waving the bookmark. And just like that, a thought hit him like a bus at full speed.

_Resurrect her._

It was like a sign from God. Use Faust the First's art of Necromancy to resurrect your beloved Eliza! Bring her back to be with her forever! Forever in love! Yes!

Before he could consider it, he was pulling on his pants and stumbling down the basement steps. He unlocked the door and a rush of musty like coolness hit him, blowing back a bit of his hair. He shut the door behind him and ran over to the medical table, but stopped dead in his tracks before he reached there. What on Earth was he thinking? He was really going insane. He looked down at the cement floor. Blood, little dried droplets of blood. Her blood. Eliza's blood. No. If there were any way, it had to be this way. If he couldn't save her by means of science, of all he knew, he would have to defy all he knew. He would do it for her. Anything for her.

He stood over her body, staring down into her lifeless eyes, the eyes that were once full of sparkle and shining emerald glints of beauty and happiness and, oh, the pain in his chest was so heavy as he looked down at her. He bent slowly and very, very softly, he kissed her forehead. His eyes filled with tears.

"Don't worry, my lovely Eliza," he whispered into her hair. "You and I will be together soon. I promise I will not fail you this time. I promise."

* * *

TBC

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_Meine liebe! Meine liebling Eliza! - My love! My darling Eliza!_

_Du haben meine herz - You have my heart_


	4. Let There Be Light

**NOTE**: Ok, so here I am in Drama class, and I'm about to start. But I am risking all that I have to write for you all. :) BE THANKFUL!! I am also hoping that my USB drive works on here and this document (which is written on a MacBook at the moment) can be opened/converted on Microsoft Word. With that, I leave you all to enjoy the story.

-Momo

* * *

...LET THERE BE LIGHT...

_Verboten, verboten, verboten..._

The word repeated itself over and over in his head. He was driving in his pick-up on the empty night road, lead foot on the gas, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. His father and mother...they wouldn't listen to him. His six other siblings never did. But he had to try.

No, he wouldn't tell them the whole story. If worse came to worse, he might have to, but for now, he would just say...what would he say?

He pulled up to the all-too-familiar household at around midnight and parked in the driveway. He stood there for a moment on the small front porch in front of the door, hesitant to knock and caught up in a fit of nostalgia. He laid his hand flat on the door and swallowed. How could he bring himself to do this? What would they say? What would they do? Flashback attack. He closed his eyes tightly.

* * *

His father had never approved of Eliza. He said that she and her family were a bad omen to them by distracting Faust from his medical studies. Her father had had a job transfer and they had moved from America to his little town in Germany. Ever since he saw her, he knew she was the one. He had first talked to her when he was somewhere in the fifth grade. He was on his way home from picking something up for his mother at the butcher's when he happened to look up at her open window. She smiled down at him and called to him.

"Hi! You're Johann Faust, right?" He didn't know English then, and he was paralyzed by her beauty.

"Oh, you probably don't speak English," she had mumbled. She called down to him again in broken German, and his eyes lit up and replied.

"_Ja, ich bin!_"

She had giggled and told him they were neighbours now. He had never been so happy in his life up until that point. He had run home and told his family the news. His mother smiled and his father had said to him in his deep, gravelly German.

"Listen to me, Johann. You must not associate yourself with those people. They will ruin you. They don't know about you, and once you tell them, they will drop you like a dead fly."

But he didn't believe him. Eliza was perfect, too perfect to do such things! And her family was just as close to him as his own. Her mother absolutely adored Faust, trusted him in spite of his name, and her father was happy that her daughter had chosen a strong, smart young man to be with. Everything was perfect. But not at his own home.

His father was furious with his relationship with Eliza. By the time Faust was in his teenage years, he's sneak out at night to go to Eliza's. Sometimes it wasn't just to see her. Sometimes it was to escape his father's condemnations and beatings. Once, he had been working on his studies at home in his room on a stormy Friday night when his father had come in and the argument had begun. He ended up being belted repeatedly before he ran out of the house and to her house. He had slammed himself into the door, shaking and crying frantically, ripped shirt clinging to his bloody torso and back. Her mother had answered the door.

"Johann!" she had exclaimed. "What in the world happened to you?!" In his thickly accented English and through his choking sobs he barely uttered the words.

"My...father...hurt me..."

After that, he had been invited inside and was cleaned up, wrapped in a blanket, given a cup of warm hot chocolate, and allowed to sleep on the pull-out bed in the living room. Oh, the horror stricken face of his lover had been even worse pain for him than the punishment he had received.

He sat, huddled up on the couch, wrapped tight in the wool afghan Eliza's mother had provided, and shivered, despite the warmth. Tears poured down his face, and he sniffed and shook while Eliza's mother sat next to him, holding him close. Eliza was in her room; he didn't want her to see anymore of him like this.

"Why did he do this to you, Johann?" Eliza's mother whispered. Faust looked at her with tearful eyes and leaned on her, hiccuping breaths. She kissed the top of his head.

"Perhaps you should stay away from here for a while," she said. "We don't want you getting hurt anymore--"

"_Nein_," he replied between quiet sobs. "I love Eliza. I go through much worse for her, always, no matter how bad pain is."

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded.

"Ok," she whispered. "But if you ever need to be safe, you can come here. Always...no matter how bad the pain is."

* * *

He knocked and rang the doorbell after standing, paralyzed by memories. Clenching his fists tightly, he waited. He heard voices from inside. Trembling began in his fingers, fighting the urge to turn and run.

His father opened the door.

"Johann?" he asked, squinting at his son. Faust didn't make eye contact.

"May I come in?" he asked in German, wasting no time. His father nodded and stepped aside. They both walked in. Faust looked around. Some things had changed, but not many. His father looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Faust looked back at him.

"Where is Mama?" he asked, walking into the kitchen. His mother was there, sitting at the table.

"Johann, oh goodness gracious," she said, getting up to kiss her son. "How are you? Why do you come so late? My goodness! Are you alright, my love?"

"Mama...I need something," Faust said after kissing his mother. He felt his father's hard gaze on his back. "And I know you won't listen to my if I try to explain, but will you please just...let me get what I need? I don't have much time..."

His mother gave him a curious look before nodding with a sigh.

"Go on and get what you need, then. Just don't wake your brothers and sisters," she said. Faust nodded and bolted up the stairs.

He tip-toed past his sleeping siblings and reached the attic door, throwing it open and climbing up the creaking stairs. He flicked on the light. It flickered and finally, after a few tried, the light stayed on and he looked around at the dusty old boxes and random old belongings of the family that no longer had any use and had long been retired.

"My God...where could it be?" he said to the silence. He climbed into the loft and began his frantic search. He threw open boxes upon boxes and yet, no luck. A good amount of time passed before he sat in the middle of his mess and put his hands on his head. He moaned in frustration and threw an old lamp to the other side of the room. It shattered against the wall. Looking over to the destroyed item, he noticed a small box that had not yet been discovered. He crawled over to it and opened it slowly. Inside, there was a black cloth covering what looked like books. His hands began to shake. On the cloth, the Faust family seal was printed and worn. But there it was.

* * *

He walked awkwardly back down all the stairs and placed the dusty boxes he had found on the kitchen table. His parents were on the couch, his father asleep and his mother on her way there.

"Did you find what you needed?" she asked him in a quiet voice.

"Yes," he replied, walking over to her and leaning down to kiss her. "I am going now. I'm sorry for coming so late."

"No no, Johann, you know you are always welcome here," she said. "We're your family."

"I know, Mama," he whispered. For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to leave. Being this close to his mother after some time, after what seemed like forever, after all of the tragic events that had just begun, she was the saving grace, the rock that he clung to, the safety in the storm. He gathered her into his arms and held her there, then delivered a tender kiss to her cheek. He buried his face in her neck and held her tighter.

"Did you miss me that much, my darling?" his mother chuckled. Faust nodded and kissed her again, his eyes closed tightly.

"I love you...so much," he said to her. "Tell father that I found what I needed."

"Yes, Johann, I will," she replied as he let her go, giving her one last kiss on the forehead before gathering the boxes and leaving. Once he was out side in his truck, the boxes in the passenger seat, he looked out the window back at the house. Should he have said goodbye to his siblings? Would they care? Should they know? He shook his head. No one can know. He drove off into the night.

* * *

The next morning, Faust had already been at work. He had read and reread all of the books he had picked up so far. His ancestor's work was written in old German text, so he had a bit of trouble identifying words, but in the end, he knew it would be worth it.

To anyone outside his situation, including himself, he would have thought the man was mad. Most people did. But the knowledge he discovered was immense! Not only was there word of resurrection in these studies, there were entire tests, experiments, workings of the Dark Arts, so Faust the First called them. Now, in modern times, it was more commonly known as Necromancy. The Art of Raising the Dead.

He swallowed, devoured the secrets like a savage animal. He knew, he believed in this work! It was too great, too powerful to be the ramblings of a mad man, as it had always been described to him. No, this was far greater. As he read these notes, these past and forgotten confessions of the dark soul, he felt something triggered in him. He felt a rising sense of confidence, of knowing. For some reason, he knew, deep in his blackened heart and soul, he knew that she would return to him, by any means. But now, he only knew of these means. Necromancy was soon to become the highlight of his life...and it had already started taking over.

* * *

TBC

TRANSLATIONS:

_Ja, ich bin - Yes, I am_

_Nein - No_


	5. And There Was Light

NOTE: In class writing again. Not as long as I would have liked, but still. I hope you all appreciate this. My favourite class is Drama class, but it's also the only class that I have enough time to write something substantial, so...enjoy!!

-Momo

...AND THERE WAS LIGHT.

Weeks passed. Months. It was the same each day, every day. He would spend hours upon hours in the basement, working, experimenting, reading, researching the lost secrets of Johann Faust the First, then every once in a while he would remember life was still taking place and he'd go up and eat something or get dressed, wash off. The material things that he had to do to stay alive. He grew paler, thinner, malnurished. His health meant nothing to him. He devoted his full concentration on the ressurection of Eliza. Nothing else mattered.

People would come to his door. Neighbours, friends, the like, and he would leave them to no answer. The mailbox was overflowing. The bills came, and that was the only thing he really needed to worry about, but he never used water, power, anything. Sometimes he'd read by candle light when the lightbulb went out and he didn't make time to change it. The things around him blurred, he became something that he never was. Detatched.

He would never sleep, or maybe sleep for an hour at most every few days or so. He'd eat what was needed to stay alive. He dropped over 20 pounds in a matter of an week and a half. His colour pigment in his eyes, hair, skin, lips...it was fading. His skin was almost white due to lack of exposure to the sun. His eyes, once a deep blue, were now a light, icy cool blue with a hint of purple. A violent stare came with those eyes. His hair had become almost bleached blonde, much lighter than his original yellow. His lips turned a light blue, due to lack of nutrients. He was the perfect horror, and things were about to get much worse.

After almost a year and a few months of this routine study, he was ready to test his power. But what on? He had taken to, a while back, going to his in-laws' house and seeing to it that everything was taken care of. Eliza's dog, Frankie, was living with him now. Needless to say, the dog wasn't in great condition. Faust didn't have time to worry about him, and when he did, Frankie was fed and such, but always on edge to the new person that had now taken over.

He would admit though that it was comforting at times to be sitting alone in bed, crying and lonely, and have another living, breathing thing curl up next to you. He found in the dog a slight shred of his old self, a gentle, caring man that loved passionately and thought deeply, now a raging lunatic hungry to try out his powers.

Needless to say, the closest thing to test was, in fact, Frankie himself. Faust, despite his care for the animal, found it a mercy to kill the dog for the cause of his late wife. Not to mention that he figured the dog wouldn't last too much longer, anyway. He did it humanely, injecting Frankie with enough drugs to kill him painlessly.

After said deed was complete, he began his experiment.

"Test one, Frankie the dog," he said to himself, writing it down in the last few blank pages of his ancestor's journal. "Dog has been dead for at least one hour. Body is still moderately warm. All bones in tact."

He switched to another book and read silently, following instructions as he went along. He placed his hands over the dead dog's body. He looked at it and then closed his eyes. He focused all his power, which he now addressed as his mana, the correct term for it, into the corpse.

After trial and error and trial and error, he had managed to get the dog to flinch once or twice. He found it a huge success, but not good enough. He worked all day. He worked all night. His mana grew stronger and stronger due to the strain. He pushed harder and harder, he tried over and over again.

By the end of the second day of tests, he still had two corpses in his basement, and he was losing hope. He sat at his desk and stared long and hard at the dog.

"Come alive," he whispered to it, hands entangled in his hair. "Please, come alive...move, breathe, something!"

He waited, half-expecting it to do so, but it lay there still, dead. His eye twitched and he groaned, and after a beat, he slammed his hands flat on the dog's body and roared.

"Come alive!"

His eyes were tightly shut and he panted, shaking slightly. He was so angry! Why, how was he going to see her again if he couldn't even resurrect a dog! He moaned and lay his head on the desk. He pet the dead dog gently. Then, he felt something licking his hand. He thought nothing of it at first.

"Not now, Frankie..." he mumbled. Then he froze. He picked his head up and looked at Frankie. He was licking at his hand, sniffing and when he noticed that Faust was looking at him, mouth agape, he panted and licked his nose. Faust was still. He couldn't move. Then he spoke gently.

"You're...alive..." he said, taking the dog's head into his hands. "Alive...alive, yes! Yes you are alive! Alive alive alive! ALIVE!!"

He screamed out laughter as he hugged the dog tightly, trembling at the same time. Tears of joy streamed down his face. He'd done it! He'd done the impossible! He brought a creature back from the dead!

And this was only the beginning.

TBC


	6. The Garden of Eden

**NOTE**: Ok, sorry for the delay guys. I've had such a busy time lately! What with band competitions every Saturday and school and home and brothers and parents and obsessions all boggling my mind, I have had little time to work on my story. However, I know it is unfair to keep you waiting, and thus, I write for you now. Enjoy!

-Momo

* * *

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

It had been, give or take, a good two years before it finally happened. He shook, falling to his knees. He swallowed hard. She stood. She stood there, in front of him. She looked at him. Into his eyes. Into his cold, hardened orbs of violet ice. Fire lit his insides. He grew numb in his limbs. He made some sort of half-anguished moan before getting shakily to his feet. Tears of misplaced feeling poured from his eyes. He took her hands.

"Eliza..." he breathed hoarsely, barely able to utter the name from his lips. He brought her hands to his face. She was so cold. She stared vacantly. She was as white as a sheet, paler than himself. Trembling, he leant over gently and kissed her forehead.

"Eliza..." he said again, lips against her skin. He entangled his hands in her thick golden locks and kissed her lips. He locked their bodies together, gathering her into his arms. He did not stop kissing her. Tears spilling down his cheeks, he kissed every inch of her body. He didn't care if she said not a word; she didn't have to. She was there with him, just like he had dreamed of. Was this a dream? Could it be? No...she was there. He was holding her like before. Kissing her like before. Like he'd promised, she was with him now. Forever.

* * *

He held her close to his body. They were wrapped tightly in blankets, the bedroom darkened by the late evening. He wanted to feel her warmth, but there was none. Well, he could feel it just fine, but there was none. Her head was nuzzled in close with his collar bone, their bare legs entangled with each other's. He sighed against her freezing skin and kissed her lightly.

"My Eliza...my lovely, lovely Eliza," he breathed. "You and I will finally be together forever, as I promised. We will love forever like this, hold each other like this, my love. Nothing can change that. I promise this. Nothing will I allow to let happen to you anymore. I will keep you safe...here with me."

Frankie lay nuzzled between legs and pillows at the foot of the bed. He looked up at the couple that lay and nudged Faust's leg. He smiled.

"You too, my little friend," he said to the dog. He looked down over at the skeletal dog and cocked his head slightly. Skeletal dog...a dog with no soul...just the frame of his body under the power and control of Faust's own mana. A monster brought back from the dead...

"...like Frankenstein," Faust mumbled. "A Frankenstein dog..."

He looked back at Eliza. She stared blankly. Frankenstein...a mindless monster brought back from the dead. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed. She was with him, here in his arms, alive enough for him...but no. Something was missing.

Before he could register what he was doing. he found himself in the basement again, hovering over the books of his ancestor. Something...what was missing? His beautiful Eliza was here with him now! But what...what went wrong? He scanned over his notes, descriptions, experiments, everything. And then it hit him, quite painfully suddenly.

_NO SOUL._

It was written in large handwriting in old German on a tearing page of the journal of Faustus the First. He swallowed hard. No soul, no soul, no soul...

"A puppet...a doll..." he seethed under his breath. She had not said a word...had not moved without him doing it...and he didn't even know if and when he made her do it. She was a puppet on his string. Nothing more. No soul...

He cried out a bloodcurdling scream and slammed his fists hard on the desktop, papers flying and the wood cracking. Why could he never win?! He had stared death in the eyes and spat in its face, but it still had won! Why?

_"WHY!!_"

He screamed and screamed, mashing things and destroying things all over the lab. And then, in the middle of his destroyed room, he fell to his knees and stayed there, very still, shaking and panting heavily. But there had been hope...a spark of hope...where? Written in the forbidden pages, yes, his ancestor had had hope. But what was the answer? He recalled reading something that he had put aside, thinking of it as non-important for the time. Where was it now? Yes...the shred of hope in the war zone of defying God and all things sensible. Where could that possibly be?

* * *

After much searching, frustration, and finally success, he had found what he had been looking for.

"The form known as 'The King of Shamans', going under many other identities...i.e. God...infinite power...dreams fulfilled...blah blah blah...ah!" he read through the pages in his kitchen, drinking a glass of water while Eliza sat in front of him, staring.

"The Shaman Tournament," he breathed. "That's it." He glanced over to Eliza.

"You will see my lovely one," he said to her. "Once I...we...once we become strong enough, we will enter this tournament, and we will kill the competition...kill to get to the top...to win..." He smiled.

"And then I will be able to make you as I had promised, as I had intended..." he began to laugh. "I will finally defeat death..."

He broke into uncontrollable laughter then. He laughed so hard that it began to hurt. Blood poured from his mouth and in spurts through his teeth. And still, his eyes glazed, he laughed. Insanity, at long last…

* * *

TO BE CONCLUDED


	7. The Fall of Adam

**NOTE**: Writing during science class during a volcano and earthquake movie.....which I should be watching since I have a test tomorrow on this stuff, but still....it's a mountain that spits out lava, right? Whatever....anyway, this is the last official chapter of the fanfic, however, there will be an epilogue, so no fear, my dearest lovelies, you will have your reward.... ^_^ Enjoy the final chapter, epilogue comes soon after, and then, THE END!

-Momo

PS: It's hard to concentrate when the narrator keeps talking....I apologize if the first part is choppy, but I cannot wait to do this!!!! I have such inspiration!!!! -_Mo_

PPS: Lava looks like squishy candy or something.... o-o

* * *

THE FALL OF ADAM

He had killed them all. He had killed his parents....he had killed his brothers and sisters, he had killed his in-laws. He had killed them all. Family was nothing to him, and they had condemned him! He had told them his beloved had been restored, reborn! And they condemned him! In a fit of blind rage, he crushed their skeletons inside their bodies, one by one, with his new found powers. The ones that had gotten away didn't matter. He felt it, felt the corrupting flow course through his veins. Such power. He saw through the eyes of his ancestor now. Such knowledge! Such power....

The opposing enemy...the one he was to fight. A sensitive one, he presumed, one that would shudder at the fact that he had done such things. Good. Let them fear him. Easy for him to claim his victory.

He stood on the train. It would take him to his first location in the Shaman Fight. He held Eliza's skeleton close to his body under his coat. Someone sat next to him. A young man, no older than sixteen, he presumed. He was dressed in the Gothik style of clothing. Must've thought he looked scary. He looked up at Faust.

"This train goes to Tokyo, right?" he said with an American accent. Faust's eyes caught his, and he stared deeply into them.

"Yes," he said quietly. "It does..."

"You...You're in the Shaman Fight?"

"How can you tell?" Talking to this boy made him self-conscious about his ecessively heavy German accent.

"This train is specified for contestants only, man," the boy said. "Furthermore, it's only for Bone Junkies."

"Bone Junkies?"

"Oh....you older folk call them Necromancers...." he said with a careless wave of his hand. "Plus, I can see your spirit medium. There's a hole in his head."

Faust's eyes twitched.

"Her..." he said, looking lovingly into his coat and gently taking out the skeleton. "Perhaps you need some air, eh, Eliza my love?"

"She....her name's Eliza?" the boy probed. Faust glared at the boy and caressed the skull tenderly.

"Yes," he said, holding the skull to his face. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"

"Sure....for a heap of bones, she looks kinda nice...."

Faust's eyes widened. A heap of bones?! Did this infidel...this _child_....just call his beloved _a heap of bones?!!_

"H....How dare you..." he seethed. "How dare you...how dare you demote my darling Eliza!" he yelled, standing suddenly. The faces on the train turned to the two. His eyes, large, cold, bloodshot blue, stared widely at the boy. He looked down. The boy was well built, healthy, but when faced with Faust's enourmous height and maniacal gaze, he shook in fear.

"H-Hey man, I didn't mean--"

"She is no mere _heap_ of _bones_! She is no doll! No puppet! _How dare you_!!" Faust raged, reaching for the boy's collar and lifting him up out of his seat.

"H-H-Hey!! P-Put me down! I'm sorry, man! I didn't know it meant that m--"

A loud crackling sound was heard throughout the enclosed place. Blood splattered. In his hands, Faust held the remains of what was the boy, now unidentifiable. A semi-blob of left over flesh and crushed bone. He dropped the thing and stepped over it, his face and hands covered in blood. He walked through the doors and off the train. People looked at him. He didn't care. Behind him, the skeletal frame of Frankie, now renamed Frankensteiny, scuttled past people and trotted behind Faust.

* * *

The rain began to fall. They wouldn't call the police. It's the Shaman Fight. The Patch were in charge, no one else. He had killed the boy. He deserved it! Calling his darling Eliza a...oh, he couldn't even say it! What a horrid thing. He walked over to the desk at the far end, where the Shamans were all signing in. He slammed his hands on the desk.

"Where am I supposed to go for my first round?" he asked. The Patch looked at him oddly and then said.

"Do you need an Oracle Pager?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Name please."

"Dr. Faust VIII," he said, glaring at the man as he shuffled around and finally retrieved the small device.

"Put this on your wrist, it'll tell you all you need to know."

"Good."

He snatched the Pager and put it on, walked hurriedly through the crowd. He typed in his name and the address came up on the little screen.

"Excellent...." he breathed. The fight was designated at a cemetery not too far from his current location. He smiled wide and laughed a bit.

"Could this be any more perfect?" he asked Frankensteiny. "Oh, what a great success I've made.....and soon to be greater....I promise....."

* * *

The rain poured down. His opponent was a normal shaman spirit medium, no older than twenty-three, perhaps. Faust had the upper hand. A graveyard was not the best pace to fight a "Bone Junky", as the American boy had said.

"Well, I guess we should introduce ourselves," the man said. "I am Higasaki Nigaya. My spirit medium are these three swords, which I use to summon one of the most powerful and legendary ninja santoryu masters in all Japan, The Black Death!"

"The Black Death? As in the plague?" Faust muttered. "What a stupid name for a warrior...."

"Well, what's your spirit's name, tough guy?" Nigaya said defensively.

"My _spirit's_ name? I think you mean my _spirit medium_," Faust said with a smile, reaching into his coat. He slowly lifted the skeleton and let it hang from his forearm, bound by chains forever to him.

"This is my beloved Eliza," he said, bringing the skeleton close to him. "My partner in medicinal menace and undying love!" Nigaya snorted.

"Love?" he said. "You're kidding."

"Say what you wish, I will not lose this battle," Faust said, his eye narrowed. The Oracle pagers beeped as the proctor from the Patch arrived.

"Alright, begin!" the proctor said. Faust engaged his mana, raising his hands.

"Hear me, those who sleep in the Earth!" he said under his breath in German. "Hear my command and rise!"

The earth rumbled. Slowly, from the depths of the underground, thousands of skeletons crawled from their slumber, creeping their way out of the mud. Faust threw his hands in the air and the rest flew from their graves. What stood between him and his opponent was an army of cold, dead bones. Nigaya swallowed, but shook his head.

"Ok! Time to go!" he said. He integrated his spirit with the swords and held them between his fingers in front of him. "The Black Death, oversoul!" The swords flashed with a ray of seemingly darkened light and lengthened, thin but long. Smoke lingered from the hilts. A hissing sound escaped the weapons as Nigaya raised them above his head and swung downward at a few bone soldiers in his path.

"Ha! These bones are nothing! They can't even withstand the weakest of swordplay!" Nigaya bragged, mowing down the skeletons one by one. Faust just stood, waiting. As Nigaya grew closer, he still did not move.

"What's the matter, old man?!" Nigaya cried. "Too frail to fight?! You did look a little scrawny to--"

Nigaya's verbal attacks were cut short by a powerful hit to the small of his back. He fell forward, gawking.

"W-What...." he panted, turning and wincing in pain. Eliza stood behind him, skeleton with glowing eyes, piercing into his, holding an enlarged razor.

"I would appreciate it," Faust said. "If you stopped making fun of me."

Nigaya grunted and barely dodged a swing of Eliza's razor blade. He scrambled to his feet just in time to block and push another attack away from him using his swords. He stood back, _en garde_, and glared at Faust.

"So it's on," he said. Faust smiled.

"I suppose," he said, shrugging. "But not for much longer, I know."

"Don't be so sure!" Nigaya exclaimed. He seemed to focus his mana on the weapons he held, and the sword length grew shorter, shrinking in length to about two feet long each.

"Interesting," Faust commented. Nigaya crouched low. He scanned the domain quickly with his eyes and then vanished. Faust raised his eyebrows.

"Where did he go...?" he said to himself. "Eliza, stay on your toes, love."

The skeleton pushed itself up on the platform of it's foot and looked at Faust. He smiled.

"I love you," he muttered.

"How cute," came Nigaya's whisper in Faust's ear. Before he had time to gasp, Faust felt cold metal on his skin and in a split second, the damage had been done.

All that could be heard was a blood curdling scream, echoing for miles.

Faust lay, semi-hunched over in a puddle blood. He trembled madly and moaned in pain. Nigaya stood back and stared at what had been committed. Not two feet away from the necromancer was a peeled layer of skin which had been perfectly ripped from his torso. The bloody talon-like swords in Nigaya's hands knew the damage they had caused. Faust's breath came strained. He brought a shaking hand to his mouth and pulled off his glove with his teeth. His unsteady fingers touched gently to his now bared muscle, and he clenched his teeth in pain. Never had he felt such pain as this. He did not, however, let his mind wander. He knew he had to win, even if it cost him more than just a couple layers of skin.

But that didn't mean he wasn't pissed.

He raised his trembling hand and willed his lover to find and bring him a fresh corpse while he sent the rest of his bone soldiers to full on attack Nigaya without warning. Nigaya was taken aback by his sudden attack, and stumbled about, trying to regain his stature. Meanwhile, Eliza had found a body. He was a young looking man, no older than twenty-five or so, and he seemed relatively "fresh", must have been buried at least a day ago. Faust looked at the body that was dropped in front of him. All of the skin was discoloured. Blue, and deep purple, as in cease of blood flow.

"Frozen to death," he said. "He was frozen to death...."

Not wanting nor caring about being picky, he began to operate on himself. He pulled out a syringe and eased the needle into his arm. After a short time, the pain dulled, the morphine already taking affect. He then drew his scalpel and slowly began to cut away at the man's skin. Within minutes, he had stitched the new layers of skin onto his own bloodied torso. He was not worried about the infections he might receive or the fact that this corpse most likely did not have his own blood type, and thus, he stood, after a maximum of only 6 minutes, torso and all.

By this time, Nigaya had mowed down and re-mowed all of the skeletons over and over again. He stood in a pile of bones, panting and staring up, aghast, at the newly restored necromancer.

"You...." he said, shuddering. "You're not going to like this....."

Unleashing his full mana, Faust took control of Nigaya's inner skeleton and dragged him straight in front of him. He took his jaw in his hand.

"Oh, look at you...." he whispered. "Surprised? Frightened? Perhaps a bit of both....how pitiful...."

He raised him high up in the air, over his head, and grabbed his razor from Eliza.

"Let me show you why I went to medical school."

He raised his blade and rested it on Nigaya's right shoulder.

"The human body can still function without all four limbs. Life is still possible. Therefore, as an example...." he said. He pulled it back and with great force, he swung down at his arm, severing it completely. It fell to the side, and Nigaya screamed loudly in pain. He did the same with his legs and his other arm, and let the half-living "body" drop. Nigaya writhed in pain.

"Unfortunately, you'll bleed to death quite quickly due to the damage..." he said. "However, there are things I can do in that time."

He leaned over to him and raised his scalpel. Very gently, he inserted the blade in Nigaya's Adam's Apple and began to cut it out slowly. Once that task was complete, he reached his hand into his throat via the hole in it and pulled the man's tongue back out through it.

"Sicilian necktie," he muttered. "Never thought it would work like this...." He laughed maniacally and with his scalpel cut out both eyes. He then grabbed the gurgling carcass and, using Nigaya's long black hair, tied it to a tree. With that, he turned, wiped his bloody hands on his coat, and walked away, leaving the overseer to gape and Eliza's skeleton to follow.

* * *

"One down," Faust murmured as he walked along the street, the rain starting to let up a little bit. "Only a step closer, but nonetheless, a large step. The extent of my power was not even scratched upon its surface." He caressed Eliza's skull within his jacket. He looked down next to him to find Frankensteiny trotting along behind.

"Come now, little one," he said to the dead dog. "We've much more to do. Just one victory does not make one truly victorious...isn't that right, my darling?" He brought the skull out from under his jacket and stared at it fondly. The hole was still there, there in her head.

The hole where the gunshot first hit.

The hole in the head of his lover, where all her life spilled out onto the carpet in the living room.

The hole that cracked her skull and killed her.

The hole that cracked his heart and killed him.

The hole that started the long trip down the road to insanity, to redemption, to condemnation, to Hell.

"For the Lord shall rise up as in Mount Perazim,

He shall be wroth as in the Valley of Gibeon,

that He may do His work,

His strange work,

and bring to pass His act."

_Isaiah 28:21_

_--_

_THE END_


	8. Epilogue

NOTE: I am so sorry for the delay. I am also sorry (in advance) for the shortness of this long awaited addition, but with the holidays creeping around lately, I've been SUPER busy! Anyway, Happy Holidays, and Merry Reading!

-Momo

EPILOGUE

(in the form of the Diary of Faust)

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months to years and years to decades and so forth and so on until there is nothing left. Nothing. Eras…dynasties…entire kingdoms, empires, falling in and out, men fighting for the same things over centuries, and thus, there is nothing.

I've been fighting not but one battle. Just one. Death. The old Gentleman Death himself, cloak and all in his darkness of his whole heart, fearing nothing, taking everything.

There's, of course, no dealing with, no talking to him. Oh, Heaven help you if you so much as breathe a whiff of his air! Ah, the darkness consuming my heart thus far has been nothing but a thick coat of ash, waiting to once more be blown off by the simplest of sighs from my beloved.

Beloved. Beloved, I cry for you. I kill for you. I live only for you, my dearest lovely. To take you into my arms, to have my fingertips dance across your bared breast once more, to lay my lips upon your frozen cheek, your hair, your face, your eyes…your striking, heart-breakingly beautiful eyes…

Must I continue? It breaks my heart so much. Oh, thou art too fair! Too fair! I weep then, toss my soul to Hell, for only the Devil can help me. Only Satan can defy the logic I have come to know. Only he cannot stop me, but just watch me burn myself, inside to out.

But why do I continue? I ask myself. Why do I do such torturous things! Ah, is the answer not in front of my very eyes? It is she. She. None other than, ever stunning, ever eternal, ever…ever mine.

I stutter and stammer and what not, I shake and I cry and I wake and I die, but she…she is there. Only she can reconcile me to the Heaven I so wish for. My beloved, hold me closer, no, don't let go…no…come back to me…

Poetics, prayers, screams, condemnations, the whole I've gotten, some from myself more than others. And in my pride, my strife, I fall. I perish, as any would. Scratch at the walls of time, do I, until my fingernails are long worn and my heart has been long torn.

Such things…such torturous things should never be seen, heard, spoken of, at the least. But not I. I live for these things…only hope dying…only faith constricted in evil…a bottomless abyss of nothingness has become my heart, my mind astray in oceans of desolation. Decadence has befallen me.

Such things…such torturous things…I cannot abandon.

-Johann Faust VIII

Translated from German text

For the sake of those who wish to read it


End file.
